


Wave Upon The Sand

by Kitashi



Series: Through Eyes of Courts and Fate [8]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Summer Court Visit, Tarquin POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitashi/pseuds/Kitashi
Summary: Chapter 32-37 of ACOMAF from Tarquin's POV. **Now complete! :)**Tarquin has received a request from the Night Court for the High Lord, Rhysand, and his courtiers to visit the Summer Court, stating that he has information regarding a potential threat from Hybern. For a new High Lord without solid allies, this could be a good move... or one he could possibly regret for centuries to come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily/gifts).



> TARQUIN!
> 
> I don't know if anyone else has done anything from his POV yet? Either way, I've loved this idea ever since it was requested, but actually figuring out what to do was hard. I knew it had to be the Summer Court, but how much? Would people actually be interested in this?
> 
> So I am leaving it up to you, the readers, how far I take this.
> 
> If you would like to see the rest of the Summer Court visit from his POV, I will continue it. Or if not, I'll leave it as is. All you have do is let me know!
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. :) Thank you guys for the comments and kudos, and the likes and reblogs on Tumblr! I don't tell you all enough how much I appreciate you guys <3
> 
> A big thanks (as always), to the best tumblr bestie in the whole wide world, @illyriantremors, who is always my biggest cheerleader and I appreciate more than I can say <3<3<3

“Absolutely not!” Cresseida snapped.

I let out a sigh of frustration and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Cresseida—”

“No! I will not allow you to let that traitorous whore and his court into Adriata. You owe him _nothing._ ”

“We owe the Cursebreaker,” I argued, “and we _do_ owe Rhysand our lives for not outing us as rebels when he clearly saw it!” This meeting had been going on for hours, and not for the first time, I wished I sat where Varian sat—a Captain and a Prince again, able to take off to sea at will, and not deciding whether we would meet with the man who had stood at the left hand of Amarantha.

Cresseida threw up her hands. “Why are we even having this meeting if you aren't going to listen to a word we say?”

I sat back in my chair. “That’s what I would like to know, seeing as _you_ are the one who wanted to have it in the first place.”

“Tarquin is right, sister,” Varian interjected. “We do owe the Cursebreaker. It is just our unfortunate luck that she is with the Night Court.”

“How do we know that isn't just him manipulating her?” She turned to me. “You said yourself that he melted our courtier’s mind. Who's to say he wouldn't do it to her to—”

“Cresseida,” I said firmly. “They are coming tomorrow. I see no better way to test if Rhysand's request for a meeting and possible alliance is genuine. If he does anything untoward to anyone while he's here, we will have justice.” I let out a sigh. “We don't have many options. The last fifty years have left us all trying to recover—”

“We can recover just fine without that monstrous court,” she said stubbornly.

“You weren't there!” I snapped, my patience running thin. “You cannot possibly imagine what it was like to watch that, and know that all it would have taken for me to befall the same fate would have been one look from Rhysand. And the Cursebreaker’s title speaks for itself. If you will not play nice for another High Lord, at least try not to embarrass us in front of the one who saved us all.” I was probably being too harsh, but Cresseida had the decency to look embarrassed nonetheless. Varian cleared his throat.

“While it is true we weren't there, Rhysand's reputation still stands. Are you sure this is a wise move?”

No. I wasn't sure of anything. That's why I’d appointed my siblings as my advisors—to keep me from making ignorant moves. But somehow, I still ended up reining _them_ in sometimes. It was a vicious cycle.

As if she'd sensed my thoughts, Cresseida asked nonchalantly, “I wonder if Tamlin is aware how close she will be to his lands.”

“Cresseida,” I warned. The last thing we needed was to be the ones instigating a war between Spring and Night. For all that one or the other might consider us allies depending on who we helped, I couldn't get rid of the nagging animosity I felt for our southern neighbor. It was Tamlin's inaction that made it so we had to rebel. It was our own mistakes that got us caught, but had there been some kind of effort for the remaining courts to go against her…

But that was in the past. We now had the freedom and the luxury to ponder the what-ifs, and right now, we had the chance to gain an ally of one of the most powerful courts in Prythian.

“I’m simply saying we don't know that Rhysand didn't kidnap her,” Cresseida continued, clearly having taken my silence as an opportunity to try to convince me. “Tamlin has been beside himself, if the rumors are to be believed. I somehow doubt after all she went through to free him that she would suddenly just abandon him.”

“Why are you paying any mind to rumors from the Spring Court?” I asked, my irritation growing.

“I simply do not want to be caught off guard if we are asked about her.”

It was Varian who answered this time. “Cresseida, do not go courting trouble.”

I let out a sigh and slumped in my chair as the conversation, and thus the bickering, started all over again.

~~

The day passed by rather quickly, turning into the hour of their arrival before I knew it. I now waited with my siblings at the entryway to the palace for our guests, who would be here any moment. There was a nice sea breeze, but there was no denying it was a warm day, even for Adriata. I wondered how long we would be standing here waiting. My only real interactions with Rhysand had thankfully been from a distance Under the Mountain, but this meant I didn't really know what to expect from him when it came to punctuality.

And speak of the devil himself, there they were.

Rhysand winnowed into sight, standing between two women, each with a hand in his. A short, raven haired woman dressed in grey, and the other—

The last time I’d seen this woman, she'd been a mortal whose neck had been snapped by Amarantha for daring to challenge her and winning. She'd been resurrected, Made into a High Fae. The Cursebreaker herself. She snatched her hand away from the High Lord, a scowl on her face.

“Welcome to Adriata,” I said, eyeing my guests.

“Good to see you again, Tarquin,” Rhysand drawled. He looked almost exactly as I remembered him, down to his midnight black outfit. The only difference was the tan that now colored his skin, and the considerable power I could feel in the air around him. He could hide his power well, but for another High Lord… it was still clearly there. I began to wonder if I had made a bigger mistake than I’d realized, letting him into my court.

But he could have outed me Under the Mountain. He could have had my entire court wiped out with merely a word, tortured… and he didn't. And despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head, I chose in that moment to give him a chance.

He gestured to the tiny woman next to him, inspecting her sharp looking nails. “Amren, I think you know. Though you haven't met her since your… promotion.”

I gave her a small nod. One would be remiss to forget the unnerving, silver eyed woman that I now remembered was Rhysand's Second. He wasn't fooling around. “Welcome back to the city, lady.” She didn't nod, or bow, or so much as curtsy. She looked me over appraisingly, as though she were eyeing her next meal.

“At least you are far more handsome than your cousin. He was an eyesore.” Her red lips stretched wide as her gaze shifted behind me. “Condolences, of course.” I wasn't quite sure how to answer this… could it be considered a compliment? The Night Court clearly had a different way of interacting than we did in Summer. I could only imagine the look Cresseida was giving them right now.

Rhysand gestured to the Cursebreaker. “I don't believe you two were ever formally introduced Under the Mountain. Tarquin, Feyre. Feyre, Tarquin.” A very informal formal introduction. But even though I’d hardly spoken to her before this, really only thanking her for saving us, there was still something so _familiar_ feeling about her. I fixed my gaze on her, keeping the political mask that Varian and Cresseida insisted I needed to use with them in place. Her expression was the same, though I couldn't shake the feeling that Cresseida might not have been entirely wrong about Rhysand controlling her.

Dressed in a flowing lilac and pearl dress, and her brassy hair in curls, Feyre was clearly prepared for our court’s weather and looked like she would fit right in. However, there were hints of the Night Court in her dress—night blooming flowers, specifically. Subtle enough to be overlooked, but still spoke volumes. I couldn't help but letting my gaze wander to the plunging neckline of her gown, accentuating her figure attractively.

Rhysand had clearly noticed. “Her breasts _are_ rather spectacular, aren't they? Delicious as ripe apples.”

I didn't like the possessive tone that was lightly woven into that statement, but wondered if that was his way of letting me know _hands off_.

Feyre slid her gaze to him, keeping her face neutral. “Here I was, thinking you had a fascination with my mouth.” The look of surprised delight that crossed his face made me rethink my suspicion, but I still remained wary.

“You have a tale to tell, it seems,” I said finally.

“We have many tales to tell,” Rhysand said, jerking his head towards the glass doors behind me. “So why not get comfortable.”

“We have refreshments prepared,” Cresseida said. I suddenly realized I had never introduced _my_ Court. An amateur’s mistake. I placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Cresseida—Princess of Adriata,” I said, trying to correct my mistake. Cresseida took a step forward.

“A pleasure,” she murmured. “And an honor.”

Feyre shrugged in an almost perfect imitation of Rhysand. “The honor is mine, princess.”

I hastily introduced the rest of our courtiers and Varian, in hopes of moving us along, though Varian kept his eyes fixed wholly on Rhysand's Second, his stance wary at best and hostile at worst. The small woman returned his glare with a smile of feral delight. Thankfully, it didn't progress any further, and soon we were walking into the palace. Rhysand walked next to me, his companions falling into step behind him.

“Nynsar approaches soon,” Rhysand said suddenly. “Have you decided what flowers you’re going to decorate with?” It was such an odd question, and so… normal. His letter had been more urgent of a request, stating that he had information regarding a potential uprising from Hybern. While I would never allow them to dock in my port after Amarantha, it never hurt to be prepared in the event they tried to force my hand.

“I haven't really thought about it yet,” I said carefully, not sure where he was going with this. “I imagine Cresseida has some ideas, though I’m sure there will at least be some hibiscus and water lilies. And you?”

“Jasmine,” he said matter of factly. “Maybe something else, but for us, the real show will be in the sky, so not many will be caring about the flowers around them.” Indeed, I’d heard the stories of Nynsar in the Night Court—Starfall, they called it. It was supposed to be one of the most beautiful sights in Prythian. Our conversation died off, neither of us really knowing what to talk about. It was hard to converse when the last time you had seen each other, you had been reveling in the freedom you’d been denied for half a century. I looked behind me. The group followed us, with my siblings bringing up the rear. Feyre wasn't far from Rhysand or Amren, but seemed… distracted.

“We have four main cities in my territory,” I said to her over my shoulder, trying to be a good host. It was her first visit here after all. “We spend the last month of winter and first spring months in Adriata—it's finest at this time of year.”

She nodded. “It’s very beautiful.” Her tone was sincere as far as I could tell, but I couldn't help staring at her. That… something… it was still there. I couldn't place what it was, and I was sure before this visit was over, I’d either ask her or go insane.

“The repairs have been going well, I take it,” Rhysand said suddenly, hauling my attention back to him.

“Mostly,” I admitted. “There remains much to be done. The back half of the castle is a wreck. But, as you can see, we’ve finished most of the inside. We focused on the city first—and those repairs are ongoing.”

“I hope no valuables were lost due its occupation,” he said. Another odd question, but from the expression on his face, it _seemed_ innocent.

“Not the most important things, thank the Mother,” I said honestly. I could feel the eyes of my advisors on me, each one digging into my back. As they peeled away, making excuses to go do other duties, I wondered if I had done something wrong. But now was not the time to worry about that. I smiled at them as best I could, and led our guests into the dining room. Feyre walked right past the table, as though she hadn't even seen it, and stood at the windows that overlooked to the bay and the sea that lay beyond. “This is my favorite view,” I said to her, seeing the awe on her face as I moved to stand next to her. I looked out at the water again. It really was—it was one of the first places I went to see when we returned to the palace after starting the rebuilding effort in the city, and it would likely be my last stop when we left for the season.

“You must be very proud,” she said, “to have such stunning lands.”

I slid my gaze over to hers. “How do they compare to the ones you have seen?”

“Everything in Prythian is lovely, when compared to the mortal realm,” she said dully—a diplomatic answer.

“And is being immortal lovelier than being human?” I asked.

She turned to me and looked at me up and down, brazenly and without a shred of politeness said, “You tell me.”

Any worries I’d had that her mind was being controlled by Rhysand were gone. This was the fire I’d seen in the mortal woman Under the Mountain. No one could replicate that so flawlessly, not even Rhysand. I smiled genuinely at her. “You are a pearl. Though I knew that the day you threw that bone at Amarantha and splattered mud on her favorite dress.”

“I do not remember you being quite so handsome Under the Mountain. The sunlight and sea suit you,” she said flirtatiously. If this had been anyone else, I'd probably have been embarrassed by the comment, even flattered. But this was the woman who had been a part of two other courts in the span of a year, and the favorite of _both_ of their High Lords.

“How, exactly, do you fit in within Rhysand's court?” I asked baldly. If she could be frank, then so would I. It was so much more honest, and a better way to negotiate.

She looked uncertain of her answer, but before I could press further, Rhysand's voice rang out from the table, as if he'd heard every word—somehow I didn't doubt he had. “Feyre is a member of my Inner Circle. And is my Emissary to the Mortal Lands.”

Cresseida, seated beside him, asked, “Do you have much contact with the mortal realm?” Feyre took this opportunity Cresseida had unwittingly given her, and moved to the table to sit next to Rhysand's Second, away from me and directly across from Rhysand.

Rhysand sniffed at his wine, to the clear chagrin  of Cresseida. “I prefer to be prepared for every potential situation. And given that Hybern seems set on making themselves a nuisance, striking up a conversation with the humans might be in our best interest.”

Varian drew his focus away from Rhysand's Second. “So it's been confirmed?” he asked roughly. “Hybern is readying for war.”

“They’re done readying,” Rhysand drawled, sipping his wine. “War is imminent.”

“Yes, you mentioned that in your letter,” I said, finally taking my seat at the head of the table between Rhysand and his Second. “And you know against Hybern, we will fight. We lost enough good people Under the Mountain. I have no interest in being slaves again. But if you are here to ask me to fight in another war, Rhysand—”

“That is not a possibility,” he interrupted smoothly, “and had not even entered my mind.” Though I doubted that, I was glad that he seemed to understand my warning.

“High Lords have gone to war for less you know,” Cresseida crooned from her seat. I looked at her and saw her gaze was focused on Feyre. “Doing it over such an _unusual_ female would be nothing unexpected.”

“Try not to look so excited, princess,” Feyre said flatly. “The High Lord of Spring has no plans to go to war with the Night Court.”

“Are you in contact with Tamlin, then?” My sister's saccharine smile was borderline feral. She was playing with fire, but she didn't seem to care.

“There are things that are public knowledge, and things that are not,” Feyre said quietly, measured—a voice that didn't demand attention, but you couldn't help but be drawn in. “My relationship with him is well known. Its current standing, however, is none of your concern. Or anyone else's. But I do know Tamlin, and I know that there will be no internal war between courts—at least not over me, or _my_ decisions.”

“What a relief, then,” Cresseida said, sipping her white wine and cracking a crab claw open. “To know we are not harboring a stolen bride—and that we need not bother returning her to her master, as the law demands. And as any wise person might do, to keep trouble from their doorstep.” I knew that last part was for me, though I could feel Rhysand Second still next to me, recognizing my sister's threat.

“I left of my own free will,” Feyre answered, clearly unhappy with the direction of this conversation. “And no one is my master.”

My sister shrugged. “Think that all you want, lady, but the law is the law. You are—were his bride. Swearing fealty to another High Lord does not change that. So it is a very good thing that he respects your decisions. Otherwise, all it would take would be one letter from him to Tarquin, requesting your return, and we would have to obey. Or risk war ourselves.”

Rhysand sighed. “You are always a joy, Cresseida.”

“Careful, High Lord,” Varian warned. “My sister speaks the truth.”

I laid a hand on the table, my siblings antics finally too much for me to ignore. “Rhysand is our guest—his courtiers are our guests. And we will treat them as such.” I decided to throw a reminder of my own to her. “We will treat them, Cresseida, as we treat people who saved our necks when all it would have taken was one word from them for us to be very, very dead.” I studied Rhysand and Feyre. While Rhysand's expression was completely disinterested, Feyre's eyes betrayed how bothered by my sister's comments she'd been, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She'd been thrown into our world simply because she'd fulfilled the criteria to save us, and now was one of us. I wondered how that had affected her since her Making. I shook my head—these were thoughts for another time. I turned to Rhysand. “We have more to discuss later, you and I. Tonight, I’m throwing a party for you all on my pleasure barge in the bay. After that, you are free to roam in this city wherever you wish. You will forgive its princess if she is protective of her people. Rebuilding these months has been long and hard. We do not wish to do it again any time soon.”

I turned to Feyre. “Cresseida made many sacrifices on behalf of her people,” I offered gently. “Do not take her caution personally.”

“We all made sacrifices,” Rhysand said suddenly, his voice razor-sharp and icy. “And you now sit at this table with your family because of the ones Feyre made. So you will forgive _me,_ Tarquin, if I tell your princess that if she sends word to Tamlin, or if any of your people try to bring her to him, their lives will be forfeit.”

Even the sea breeze died. _This_ was the man who led the Court of Nightmares. Who could—and did—kill in Amarantha's name for fifty years.

“Do not threaten me in my own home, Rhysand,” I warned, though my bravado was on shaky ground. “My gratitude only goes so far.”

“It's not a threat,” he countered, the crab claws on his plate cracking open all at once, the meat practically exploding out of the shells—under his power. “It’s a promise.”

I turned towards Feyre, to see how she would respond to such a… protective statement. Especially for one who said she had no master.

Feyre merely looked at all of us and raised her glass as if in a toast. She held my gaze the longest. “No wonder immortality never gets dull.”

The charged air crackling about the table dissipated almost instantly, and I chuckled.

This was going to be a very interesting visit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 33 of ACOMAF from Tarquin's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left me such nice comments! I'm so glad that people liked this enough for me to continue it! I'm excited to keeping writing from Tarquin's point of view, and stick around in the Summer Court a bit longer.
> 
> Without further ado, here is Chapter 2! :)

To my relief, the party aboard the barge started off pleasantly. I’d heard no more barely veiled threats between my sister and Rhysand before we parted to ready for the evening, and the peace seemed to be holding as we set sail and mingled with the other guests I had invited to join us—High Fae who traditionally garnered invitations by status, and the few I had been allowed to invite on merit. The sea was calm, only in part thanks to my power, and the party was in full swing even before we were fully in the bay. The food and drink were plentiful, and as I sat at the table beneath the tiled canopy watching my people converse on the deck below, I felt the closest to normal I’d been since returning home.

Adriata had always been one of my favorite spots to sail. As a prince, I had enjoyed sneaking out before the sun even began to think about rising, and watching the pinks, golds, and oranges that reflected in the turquoise sea. Though I still did it when I could manage—and had done it on the morning after we first returned—I knew after the admonishment I’d received from my siblings and older courtiers that it would not be a frequent luxury I would get to enjoy.

I felt someone’s eyes on me, and noticed out of the corner of my eye that Feyre stared at me, sitting in the seat to my right. Well, more specifically, stared at my crown. It was a beautiful piece, the sapphires set in the white gold a reflection of the fathomless sea surrounding us. Though I would readily have admitted that she wore the dusky pink dress, so much like the lavender she had worn earlier, and rose gold headband better—the very picture of a seaside sunrise.

“You’d think with our skilled jewelers, they could make a crown a bit more comfortable. This one digs in horribly,” I said conversationally. She had been so quiet since we had boarded the barge, and had surprisingly distanced herself from her companions and any of the guests, who eyed her with parts nervousness and awe—electing instead to observe Adriata, the water, and the mainland from the railing before taking her seat at the table. My sister had taken the seat next to Rhysand that I had originally intended for Varian so he could discuss military strategies. However, she seemed to be behaving herself, chatting amicably with the High Lord. My brother, however, was nowhere to be found, nor Rhysand's Second—they had vanished shortly after boarding. I prayed to the Mother that he hadn't confronted her over her earlier comments about Nostrus, rest his soul. There was something about that silver eyed woman that made a shiver run down my spine, and though I hated to admit it, there was no doubt in my mind that she would be the victor should it come to a fight between her and my brother.

“How did you keep it out of her hands?” Feyre asked suddenly. An odd question to ask about a piece of metal. It had no sentimental value, and during the occupation—

“We managed to smuggle out most of our treasure when the territory fell,” I answered, as I understood the meaning of her words—more than just the gleaming symbol of my throne on my brow, but a question about Adriata itself, from before. “Nostrus—my predecessor—was my cousin. I served as prince of another city. So I got the order to hide the trove in the dead of night, as fast as we could.” That night was one I wouldn't forget any time soon. It was not long after that Nostrus had fallen, that anyone else raised with the potential to rule had been slaughtered for nothing more than spite… and the power had passed to me, leaving me with a territory collapsing around me and a band of rebels the only people besides my siblings that I could trust.

“I didn't know the Summer Court valued treasure so much,” she said.

I huffed a laugh. When put that way, we did sound a bit like treasure hoarding drakes. “The earliest High Lords did. We do now out of tradition, mostly.”

“So is it gold or jewels you value, then?” Her voice was casual, almost too much. She had an ulterior motive, that much was clear, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Or, for that matter, if it was hers or Rhysand's.

“Among other things,” I said equally as careful. She sipped her wine, thoughtful. “Are outsiders allowed to see the collection?” She asked with the same refreshing directness that she had in the dining room. “My father was a merchant—I spent most of my childhood in his office, helping him with his goods. It would be interesting to compare mortal riches to those made by Fae hands.”

I cocked my head, not exactly sure what she could gain from seeing our treasure rooms; the Night Court had just as much treasure and pretty baubles, I was sure. Though a prideful part of me wanted to show off. “Of course,” I found myself saying. “Tomorrow—after lunch, perhaps?” This woman was certainly confusing, but at the same time, the idea of spending time with her without Rhysand hovering and listening to every word was… appealing. She smiled, nodding, and looked again at the crowd milling about on the deck below.

“What was it like?” I asked curiously, changing the subject. “The mortal world?”

She picked at the strawberry salad on her plate. “I only saw a very small slice of it. My father was called the Prince of Merchants—but I was too young to be taken on his voyages to other parts of the mortal world. When I was eleven, he lost our fortune on a shipment to Bharat. We spent the next eight years in poverty, in a backwater village near the wall. So I can't speak for the entirety of the mortal world when I say that what I saw there was… hard. Brutal. Here, class lines are far more blurred, it seems. There, it's defined by money. Either you have it and you don't share it, or you are left to starve and fight for your survival. My father… he regained his wealth once I went to Prythian.” She looked pained at the thought. “And the very people who had been content to let us starve were once again our friends. I would rather face every creature in Prythian than the monsters on the other side of the wall. Without magic, without power, money has become the only thing that matters.”

I pursed my lips. I didn't know where this Bharat was, but knowing the fickle nature of the sea, her favor was as quick to change as tides during a storm. It didn't surprise me that it could turn a fortune just as fast. And the mortal realm didn't sound much different than Fae society in some ways, from the way she described these people. “Would you spare them if war came?” As Rhysand’s ambassador to the mortal realms, there was a high chance that if war came, she would have to make that choice.

She hesitated, almost torn. But then she answered, “My sisters dwell with my father on his estate. For them, I would fight. But for those sycophants and peacocks… I would not mind to see their order disrupted.” A honest answer, and a fair one, especially for one who had not only seen, but lived, both sides of the coin.

“There are some who think the same of the courts,” I said quietly, almost to myself, but the almost imperceptible widening of her eyes told me that she had heard me.

“What—get rid of the High Lords?” She seemed surprised by the idea, but she kept her voice just as low.

“Perhaps. But mostly eliminate the inherent privileges of High Fae over the lesser faeries. Even the terms imply a level of unfairness. Maybe it is more like the human realm than you realize, not as blurred as it might seem. In some courts, the lowest of the High Fae servants has more rights than the wealthiest of lesser faeries.”

“Do you agree with them? That it should change?” she asked. Feyre's expression seemed interested, not judgemental, as I had expected—as I had seen from others I had mentioned this to.

“I am a young High Lord,” I said. “Barely eighty years old.” And fifty of those years had been spent under the clawed hand of a tyrannical false queen. “Perhaps others might call me inexperienced or foolish, but I have seen those cruelties firsthand, and known many good lesser faeries who suffered from merely being born on the wrong side of power.” I’d fought beside many of them over the last half century. “Even within my own residences, the confines of tradition pressure me to enforce the rules of my predecessors: the lesser faeries are neither to be seen nor heard as they work. I would like to one day see a Prythian in which they have a voice, both in my home and the world beyond it.”

Feyre looked at me appraisingly, weighing my words, and… something else.

“Tell me what that look means,” I asked, bracing my arms on the gold tablecloth.

With the same boldness, the same honesty, that she had earlier, she replied, “I’m thinking it would be very easy to love you. And even easier to call you my friend.”

My heart skipped a beat at her words, despite my logic screaming better judgement at me—reminding me whose court she was currently representing, and the one she had been a part of not even that long ago. Reminding me whom she had loved—possibly still did—and to what lengths she had gone to save him. But in that moment… I smiled broadly at her, without any restraint. “I would not object to either.” And I meant it.

Her gaze shifted next to me, and I followed it. To my utter surprise, my sister was practically in Rhysand's lap, biting her lip and beaming with happiness—a complete reversal of her earlier actions and threats. Rhysand, to his credit, was being a gentleman as far as I could see. His grin was almost feline, tracing circles on the back of Cresseida’s hand with one finger, but other than that, my sister was not doing a very good job of hiding her intentions… unless _that_ was her intention. I turned back to Feyre, who now looked at me with her eyebrows high in a silent question. I made a face and shook my head. I had absolutely no words for how to explain what my sister was doing.

But the look on her face…

“It has been many years since I saw her look like that,” I mused aloud. Indeed, she hadn't smiled like that even when I returned to the palace after leaving Under the Mountain, opting for tears and relieved sobbing instead. I noticed Feyre's cheeks darkened scarlet. She looked torn, jealous, and… sad. Especially sad. She stood up from the table suddenly. Rhysand, whose gaze had briefly shifted to Feyre, didn't even flinch before chuckling at whatever my sister had said to him and returning his full attention to her, my sister's fingers entwining with his. I rose from the table as well and looked between Feyre and my fellow High Lord.

“I need some fresh air,” Feyre said, even though we were on the open deck.

“Would you like me to join you?” I asked. No matter what she was to the man next to me, or even the one across my southern border, she needed someone, even just to listen. She looked at me for a moment, as if studying me, trying to find words that she didn't have.

“I'm fine, thank you,” she refused politely, and without another word, headed for the sweeping staircase that led to the stern of the ship. I watched her walk away, and noticed that Rhysand didn't spare her another glance.

The final hour of the party went by without an incident, even as my sister practically dragged Rhysand out of his chair, giggling as he winnowed them away in a cloak of black shadow. I stared at the space they had vanished from, for how long I didn't know. But the expression Feyre had on her face as she had looked at my sister and Rhysand wouldn't leave my mind. Her stories of her life in the human world showed a woman who had overcome much adversity. What she’d endured at Amarantha's command, what she'd done to save Tamlin and by extension all of us… she had been through more than many Fae would see in their lives. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she had been through, not really. She had shown time and time again that she needed no one to save her. And yet that brokenness in her eyes...

It would be very easy to love her as well, I decided. Already she felt trustworthy, and a friend. Almost too easy, judging from the two High Lords that she had already gained the interest of. But Rhysand's cold indifference towards her, after that predatory display in defense of her earlier, was beyond strange. Whatever had happened in the hours between their arrival and boarding the barge had clearly hurt one or both of them deeply. I wondered what had happened between her and Tamlin to cause her to swear fealty to another High Lord—to his most hated enemy, no less—and become trusted enough to be let into his Inner Circle, to attend court visits with him. I couldn't decide if this was a calculated choice on her part to hurt Tamlin, or something else entirely.

“We approach the mainland, Lord Tarquin.” I barely managed to keep from flinching as a voice cut through my musings, and looked to our skipper, who had somehow walked up to me without notice. I gave him a nod of thanks and rose from my seat as the boat docked in the port, the captain announcing our return to the shore.

I led the crowd off of the barge and stood on the docks, thanking those who spoke to me for attending, and waiting for my guests—for Feyre, if I was honest. After a group of drunken men stumbled off the boat singing bawdy sea shanties, I finally spotted my brother, who appeared from somewhere on the outskirts of the docks. Amren trailed only him slightly, but her silver eyes were clearly taking in everything. “And where were you exactly?” I asked.

“Drinking.” He didn't look the least bit drunk thankfully, scanning the area as he took a place next to me, watching the guests disembark. “Where is Cresseida?” he murmured to me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“She left with Rhysand before we docked,” I said evasively. His posture stiffened and he raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

I watched Feyre descend the gangplank with the remaining guests, and felt my heart break at the look in her eyes when she realized that Rhysand nor Cresseida were anywhere to be found. But she didn't ask—it was as though she didn't want to let her mind go there, and I couldn't blame her. I offered my arm to her, which she took gently and allowed me to escort her back to her rooms. We walked in amicable silence, and though I had so many things I wanted to ask her, I knew now was not the time.

We came to a stop outside of her rooms, the ones connected to Rhysand's. No sounds echoed through the halls as she opened the door. “Shall we meet in the main hall after lunch?” I asked. She nodded.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, as though she were afraid of waking someone, or possibly two. Trying to distract her, I bowed to her, respectfully. “Good night, Lady Feyre.” Though the smile she gave me did not reach her eyes, she echoed a good night, and closed the door behind her.

After a moment of staring at her closed door, I walked purposefully through the halls to my sister's rooms in the eastern wing. To my great relief, I didn't hear any sounds at her door either as I approached. At least Rhysand appeared to have gone back to his own rooms or they were both sleeping. I had no desire to find or hear him in my sister's bed. I knocked loudly. No one answered. I knocked once more. There was always the possibility that she had gone to his rooms instead and I just hadn't heard them, which I didn't like much more, if only for Feyre's sake. Just as I was about to walk away, the door opened. My sister stood in the doorway with a flirtatious look on her face, her makeup and hair clearly refreshed since coming back to her rooms for the evening. Her smile quickly vanished when she saw me.

“What brings you here, brother?” she said by way of greeting, holding open the door so I could come inside.

“I take it I wasn't the one you were expecting?” I said lightly, trying to conceal my relief that she had answered alone. I knew very well from the nightgown she tried to hastily hide by tying her robe that I was not the High Lord she had hoped would be at the door when she opened it.

“You could say that,” she said, her annoyance clear.

“And what was _that_ exactly, Cresseida?” I asked. There was no point in mincing words. “You clearly had something in mind when you took Varian’s seat at the table this evening.”

“He wasn't going to use it anyway. I am merely playing the political game that you refuse to,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I raised an eyebrow. “Flirting with Rhysand is playing the political game?” A knock rang through the room. Not waiting for an answer, the door opened behind us a moment later, and Varian slipped in quietly. I made a mental note to keep my voice down. The last thing I needed was to draw any of our guests’ attention, especially at this hour.

“That is none if your business,” she answered haughtily.

I crossed my arms. “When it involves matters that could affect potential alliances and relations with other courts, it becomes my business.” I was pushing and I knew it, but it was better to take care of this now, before it got out of hand.

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to enjoy myself? Does this rule also apply to _yourself_ , brother? Could you have been ogling the Cursebreaker anymore openly?” she countered hotly, ignoring my question and trying to change the subject. “I imagine the gossip mongers in the streets will soon be taking bets on how long before the Cursebreaker charms a third High Lord into her bed.”

It was Varian who saved me from answering. “Sister, that was uncalled for, especially considering your own flirting with a High Lord was very public and heavy handed.” So he had seen it too, from wherever he had been.

“You have no room to judge,” she interrupted. “Especially after spending the evening with that silver eyed abomination.” Varian let out a sigh of irritation, but didn't answer. I glared at her.

“Cresseida, I don't know what you hoped to accomplish with this display, but—”

“I already told you,” she snapped. “I’m doing _my job_.” I crossed my arms, my irritation growing.

“Are you? First, you antagonize them in the dining room to the point that Rhysand is openly threatening us if you go to Tamlin. Then mere hours later, you are crawling in his lap and acting like a lovestruck girl!” I threw my hands in the air. “I told you before they arrived not to embarrass us in front of our guests, and the first thing you do is exactly that!”

She raised an eyebrow. “How am I embarrassing us?”

“By throwing yourself at the High Lord of the Night Court in front of all our guests and courtiers. The look on Feyre's face when she saw that—”

“Feyre, hmm?” she interrupted, smirking. “You're on a first name basis with the Cursebreaker now? Maybe I should throw my own coins into the betting pool. I could stand to make a lot of money I’m sure.”

“Cresseida.” I was fast losing my temper, and judging from her widened eyes, my tone must have hinted at it too.

“Tarquin, maybe we should discuss this in the morning,” Varian suggested. “We’re all tired from the day, and nothing is going to change at this hour anyway.” I slowly nodded in agreement, not taking my eyes off of my sister.

“We haven't finished this discussion,” I told her pointedly, and she nodded in understanding, the embarrassment and anger coloring her face and overpowering the makeup on her cheekbones. “You both will meet with me before breakfast in my quarters, before Varian and I meet with Rhysand and Amren for negotiations.”

“Why not after our meeting?” Varian asked curiously.

Even though I tried to remain serious, I couldn't stop a small smile from forming, that feeling from before spreading warmly through my chest. “I have somewhere to be.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 34 of ACOMAF
> 
> Tarquin has a meeting with the Night Court, takes Feyre on a tour, and gets a letter with a request that he hoped he would never get...

My morning meeting with Varian and Cresseida went about as well as expected. By the time they left my chambers, I was grateful that I had my tour with Feyre to look forward to. She had been noticeably absent at breakfast, and even Rhysand's gaze darted towards the door a few times, as though he expected her to walk in at any moment. But she never did.

I knew I was too early to the meeting as I sat in the agreed upon room off of the main hall. But the quiet was hard to come by outside of my rooms, and it was nice to have a few moments to collect my thoughts and try to prepare for whatever Rhysand would throw at us. It was unfortunately short lived, as Varian walked in, his brow creased.

“Please don't give me bad news,” I said as he slid into the seat next to me.

“You’re the High Lord. Bad news comes with the territory.” He slid a folded piece of paper towards me. “Before you open that, I should tell you the rumors that have been going around the servants quarters.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care what the servants have to say?”

“Since what they're saying involves our current guests, specifically a certain Cursebreaker.”

I swore under my breath, and looked pointedly at the folded letter. “Is this from the Spring Court?” He nodded. “What does he want?” I prompted.

“You can read the letter, but I imagine you can hazard a guess what it says.”

“First tell me what you learned.” I didn't touch the paper.

Varian looked at me for a long moment before continuing. “Word has it that Feyre was taken out of the Spring Court by a woman from the Night Court because Tamlin locked her in his manor.” I looked at him stunned. Noticing my look, Varian continued, “But it doesn't make sense, because—”

“—why would you lock up someone you love,” I finished for him. “Especially after what she did for him, for all of us, Under the Mountain.” We’d all been trapped in those tunnels and catacombs, but judging from how she looked whenever she hadn't been paraded around as Rhysand’s plaything, Feyre had actually been treated like a prisoner there. I could imagine that Tamlin locking her up had not gone over well. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Where does this put us?”

“In the middle,” he deadpanned.

“Varian,” I warned. He sighed.

“It is as Cresseida said—if we are directly asked, we are honor bound to return her.”

“Rhysand is not stupid,” I said. “If they took her, he wouldn't have left any loose ends for Tamlin to pull on to get her back if she didn't want to go.” He was too thorough to let something like that catch him unawares.

Varian pushed the folded paper closer to me. “Read his request for yourself if you’d like. But by law we have to inform him she is here.” I shook my head.

“Not yet. I want to know her side of the story first.”

“She's not going to tell you the truth, especially if she truly doesn't want to go back,” Varian argued. “If she is consorting with the Night Court or under Rhysand’s control, she is not to be trusted.”

“She’s not under Rhysand’s control,” I said flatly. “And what if the rumors are true? We’d be sending her back into the hands of someone who locked her up.”

“Can you prove that she's telling the truth though?” His tone wasn't accusatory, but quiet now.

“I—” Before I could finish speaking, Cresseida walked purposefully into the room. I didn't know whether to be annoyed or relieved.

“What are you doing here, Cresseida?” Varian hissed as she took a seat next to him. I discreetly slid the letter underneath some of Varian’s other papers, thankfully without her seeming to notice.

“I’m the Princess of Adriata. If you are having a meeting in _my_ city, then I should be a part of it.” Varian shifted his gaze to me, as if beseeching me to back him up, while Cresseida smiled triumphantly. She knew that I couldn't outright reject her without looking like I couldn't control my own court, especially when our guests were likely going to walk in at any moment. I looked at Cresseida hard.

“No trying to make Rhysand suffer because of your bruised ego. We are here for negotiations, not petty squabbling. I mean it,” I warned as she opened her mouth to retort. To my relief, Rhysand and Amren walked into the room at that moment. I noticed he barely even spared Cresseida a glance, which only deepened her scowl. He took a seat across from me, Amren to his right and across from Varian, and steepled his fingers in front of him with a flash of his teeth. “So, shall we get started?”

~~~

“Your Illyrian cavalry can only do so much,” Cresseida interrupted. “Our armada is suited for any weather, while yours is limited to when they can safely fly.” Apparently she _really_ hadn't taken well to Rhysand ignoring her advances. We had been in this meeting for over an hour, probably closer to two, and we had gotten absolutely nowhere thanks to Cresseida interrupting and acting like she was in charge. Rhysand caught my eye more than a few times and I could have sworn that I saw a flash of sympathy there. I wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.

“Your armada is useful where there is _water_ ,” Amren drawled. She didn't seem to be the least bit perturbed by the princess. If anything, she looked amused.

Cresseida narrowed her eyes at the perpetually grey clad woman. “In case you haven't noticed, _Lady_ ,” she bit out, “Prythian is surrounded by it.”

Rhysand’s Second grinned, her silver eyes flashing with predatory triumph. “And in case _you've_ forgotten, your northern neighbor is Winter—that means ice, princess.” Ignoring fury on my sister’s face, the woman turned to Varian with a smirk. “It matters not to us if you wish to sail on your own. We have made our offer.”

“Your offer is too presumptuous,” Varian ground out. “The Night Court doesn't have the reputation to rally the courts to an alliance against Hybern. People will not forget Amarantha and the Night Court’s involvement with her so easily.” I swore I saw Rhysand stiffen at his words, but he kept his expression stoic. He’d barely said more than a few words, content to let his Second take the lead. It was like he wasn't even here at points. Varian hadn't seemed to notice; his irritation with the small woman’s barely veiled snark was becoming more obvious as the discussion continued, and I feared if it went on for much longer, this verbal sparring session would get physical fast. “Who among your Court knows even the first thing about sailing anyway?”

“The Night Court’s general and Shadowsinger, as well as his Third and the High Lord himself all participated in the War, and are well versed in the application of military tactics,” she said matter of factly. “Especially if you take the Illyrian camps into consideration.” Indeed, the rumors of the brutality in the camps was well known, even this far south. I didn't want to think of what kind of person that Rhysand had to be to allow it to go on. “As for sailing…” The woman’s smile was serpentine as she went on. “That's where you and your High Lord come in, _Captain_. I hear you both were quite the accomplished sailors for Nostrus.”

I nodded. “We commanded our cousin's military interests on the sea.”

“Yes, and also some of his less… savory exports, correct?” Rhysand finally spoke. “Some that bordered on piracy? At least, that's what your princess mentioned last night.”

I turned to Varian, whose face had gone white. Even I knew nothing about this. But there was only one place that information could have come from. I slid my eyes over to Cresseida, whose fury had progressed to her becoming red faced with embarrassment. Apparently her attempts to glean information had backfired.

But—” Rhysand paused for a moment, violet eyes glittering dangerously. “Say what you will about me, and what _I_ did over the last fifty years, but leave my court out of it.”

My eye caught the pearl and gold accented grandfather clock; only a few minutes until two, when I had promised to meet Feyre. I rose from the table.

“I have a previous engagement. If there is nothing else that requires my attention,” I said, looking at Rhysand and trying not to seem too eager to escape the tension in the room, “I can leave you with Varian for further discussion.” I could feel the two sets of eyes next to me glaring, but I ignored them.

Rhysand shook his head. “I have nothing to discuss that cannot wait until a later time,” he said smoothly, his tone back to normal. He rose gracefully from the table, Amren and my advisers following suit as they collected their belongings and followed me into the hall.

Feyre stood outside in the hall, leaning against the seashell pillar.

“You're looking well today,” I said, inclining my head. She wore a dress of seafoam green and rose gold, her hair braided with pearls. The color almost perfectly matched to the accents on my own tunic—like we had planned it, though I knew it was merely coincidence. However, I could feel Rhysand's gaze flicking between Feyre and I, even though he didn't say a word.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said to Amren, avoiding the eyes of Cresseida and Rhysand.

The small woman shrugged her shoulders. “We were finishing up a rather lively debate about armadas and who might be in charge of a unified front. Did you know that before they became so big and powerful, Tarquin and Varian led Nostrus’s fleet?” I thanked the Cauldron she didn't mention the other information she had revealed at the table.

“You didn't mention you were a sailor,” she said with interest. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to feel pleased.

“I had planned to tell you during our tour.” I held out an arm. “Shall we?” I wanted to get away from them all as quickly as possible before someone else began talking.

She looped her arm through mine, and without meeting the gaze of either of her companions, she said to no one in particular, “See you later.”

I could feel Rhysand watching her—watching us—as we walked away. I knew he was jealous, could practically feel it charging the air around him, and perhaps she did too. But after the display he had put on with Cresseida the night before in front of her, and as she gave me a pretty smile that I couldn't help but return, I couldn't find it in myself to feel guilty.

~~

As I brought her into the underground treasure room—one of many where we had stashed artifacts in our haste—she openly gawked at the display of jewels, treasure, and wealth. “And this is—this is just _one_ of the troves?”

I loosed a chuckle. “My ancestors were greedy bastards.” Indeed they were. The troves had been scattered across all of the cities, and I had a feeling that we still hadn't found some of the older ones.

She shook her head, striding to look at the stone shelves piled haphazardly with boxes full of gems, surrounded by the overflowing chests of gold. Two dresses, woven of cobwebs and starlight, were situated not far from her. I idly wondered if they would fit her.

“Do you know the history behind each piece?” she asked, looking at some of the swords and daggers.

“Some,” I said, keeping my eyes on her as moved about the room. “I haven't had much time to learn about it all.”

She turned in a circle, as if admiring the room as a whole. “What's the most valuable thing in here?”

“Thinking of stealing?” I teased with an easy grin.

She laughed. “Wouldn't asking that question make me a lousy thief?”

I studied her. Standing her amongst our treasures and history, she looked like she… belonged. “I’d say I’m look at the most valuable thing in here.

She blushed a rosy pink. “You're—very kind.”

I smiled at her softly. Underneath all that fire, there was a woman who had been through far too much in her short life. I wondered if she realized how rare such a strength was, even among the immortal. “Honestly, I don't know what's the most valuable thing. These are all priceless heirlooms of my house.”

She walked up to another shelf, scanning the collection of baubles and jewelry. She suddenly stopped, looking at something in particular. I moved behind her to see what had caught her interest.

A black diamond necklace. The stones seemed to consume the light around them, and yet sparkled invitingly. I had no idea where it had come from, but it seemed very Night Court, if I were honest. It probably had been inspired by it at some point in history, or possibly taken from there in centuries past. I could imagine it would look stunning on her. Her eyes were fixed intently on the sparkling gems, as if she saw something in the darkness that I did not. “Take it,” I found myself saying.

“What?” She whirled toward me, her surprise evident. I rubbed the back of my neck.

“As a thank-you. For Under the Mountain.” I pulled the box from the shelf and shut the lid, handing it to her. She looked at me stunned. “You were the first person who didn't laugh at my idea to break down class barriers. Even Cresseida snickered when I told her.” She usually wouldn't have given me a reaction, but I must have surprised her that day, because Varian was commenting on it days later. “If you won't accept the necklace for saving us, then take it for that.”

“It's a good idea, Tarquin,” she insisted. “Appreciating it doesn't mean you have to reward me.”

I shook my head. Stubborn, modest girl. “Just take it.” She looked torn, but she finally closed her hands around the box. “It will suit you in the Night Court.”

“Perhaps I’ll stay here and help you revolutionize the world,” she suggested.

I gave her a half smile. As much as I could see myself enjoying that, I knew it wasn't meant to be. “I could use an ally in the North.”

She looked stricken for a moment, and the scent of fear began to waft off of her.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” I said hastily, trying to put her at ease again. “But I meant it—you have…” I searched for the right word. “...sway with Rhysand. And he is notoriously difficult to deal with.” I thought back to this morning’s meeting, how laid back he had been, while still being as unmoving as adamant. “He gets what he wants, has plans he does not tell anyone about until after he’s completed them, and does not apologize for any of it. Be his emissary to the human realm—but also be ours. You’ve seen my city. I have three others like it. Amarantha wrecked them almost immediately after she took over. All my people want now is peace, and safety, and to never have to look over their shoulders again. Other High Lords have told me about Rhys—and warned me about him. But he spared my cousin, and we had forces gathering in all of our cities to storm Under the Mountain. They caught him sneaking out through the tunnels to meet with them. Rhys saw that in Brutius’s mind—I know he did. And yet he lied to her face, and defied her when she gave the order to turn him into a living ghost. Maybe it was for his own schemes, but I know it was a mercy. He knows I'm young—and inexperienced, and he spared me.” I shook my head. “Sometimes, I think Rhysand… I think he might have been her whore to spare us all from her full attention.” After his comment today, I was more certain than ever.

Feyre kept her expression stoic, but the flicker in her eyes told me my suspicions were correct, or at least very close. I studied her, dressed like she belonged here, and wondered if it was more intentional than I had previously thought.

“I know I'm supposed to look at you,” I continued, “and see that he's made you into a pet, into a monster. But I see the kindness in you. And I think that reflects more on him than anything. I think it shows you and he might have many secrets—”

“Stop,” she blurted out. “Just—stop. You know I can't tell you anything. And I can't promise you anything. Rhysand is High Lord. I only serve in his court.”

I glanced at the ground. “Forgive me if I’ve been forward. I'm still learning how to play the games of these courts—to my advisers’ chagrin.”

She smiled softly. “I hope you never learn how to play the games of these courts.”

I looked at her warily. “Then allow me to ask you a blunt question. Is it true you left Tamlin because he locked you up in his house?”

She seemed stunned for a moment, but then nodded stiffly.

“And is it true that you were saved from confinement by the Night Court?”

Again she nodded. I wanted to curse out loud. I knew Tamlin did some brash things, but locking up a former prisoner who had been tortured as she’d been… that was callous as well as cruel, no matter what his intentions had been.

“The Spring Court is my southern neighbor. I have tenuous ties with them. But unless asked, I will not mention that you were here.” And because of that, I would not read the letter.

She bowed her head in thanks. “Any other treasure troves to show me?”

“Are gold and jewels not impressive enough? What if your merchant’s eye?”

She tapped the box in her hand. “Oh, I got what I wanted. Now I’m curious to see how much your alliance is worth.”

I laughed loudly, the sound echoing around us. “I didn't feel like going to my meetings this afternoon, anyway.”

“What a reckless, wild young High Lord,” she teased. There wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes anymore.

I offered my arm to her and linked elbows with her patting her arm as we left the chamber. “You know, I think it might be very easy to love you, too, Feyre. Easier to be your friend.” She looked away shyly as I placed my hand back on the door, just above the handle. I could hear the audible click of the locks sliding into place as we walked away.

~~~

We went to other rooms beneath the palace, the troves of jewels, weapons, and clothes that were centuries old and in some cases would probably have disintegrated had they been made by anything but fae hands. She looked particularly excited when we entered the vault of books, but seemed disappointed that there was nothing in there that she could read. As we walked to the door of the storage room filled with all the art we'd managed to hide before the occupation, she said tiredly, “I think I’ve seen enough for today.” I nodded and resealed the chamber, escorting her back to the upper levels of the palace and leaving her with the promise of seeing her at dinner.

I walked into the hallway of my quarters as I saw Varian walking towards me. “Where have you been?” he said in greeting, clearly frustrated. “We had a scheduled meeting two hours ago.”

I met his stare. “I was enjoying my afternoon with our guest.”

He scowled at me. “Tarquin, I’m inclined to agree with Cresseida. There is something off about this visit.”

“Maybe so, but I confirmed the rumors. He did lock her up, and she was rescued by the Night Court.”

Varian swore. “This doesn't change anything. She still is the future Lady of the Spring Court, no matter how Rhysand dresses her up. Tamlin is going to want an answer, Tarquin, and soon.”

“And he’s not getting one. Not from me.”

“If you don't answer, Cresseida will,” he warned. “You know that.”

“Against the direct order of her High Lord? No she won't. Her rank will only get her so far before it becomes treason.”

Varian raised his brows. “You wouldn't seriously declare her a traitor, Tarquin. Over a guest from the Night Court of all places?”

I looked at him squarely. “If it is deserved, I will.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “You and Cresseida have insisted that I need to act like the High Lord—”

“Not like this,” he interrupted.

“You can’t have it both ways, Varian. You can’t have me be one or the other if it is convenient for you.”

“This has nothing to do with us,” he snapped. “This has to do with gaining allies so we are not sitting ducks if Rhysand is right about Hybern.”

“The Spring Court—”

“—shares our southern border. The Night Court is nowhere near enough to give any kind of immediate aid.” He let out a sigh. “I want to trust them too, Tarquin. I know that after what you endured, you feel that you owe them for not turning you in after Brutius was caught. But you have to think of _your_ —”

“I _am_ thinking of my people—of my court.”

“Are you? Or are you thinking of a pretty face that has already charmed two High Lords, and now possibly a third?”

I didn't know how to respond to that. Varian shook his head. “We’ll discuss this more later. Right now, we need to prepare for our meetings with them tomorrow, and hope that Cresseida hasn't spilled any other information she shouldn't have when she was trying to charm it out of Rhysand.”

“You mean things like piracy, Varian?” I asked harshly. I’d almost forgotten about it.

He shook his head. “It's not like she made it sound. This was centuries ago. We attacked ships that belonged to pirates in our waters, and merchant ships from the mortal realms that went off course and refused to turn back. Some of the men… kept the things they found.” He sighed. “This is what I mean. They are trying to divide us from the inside. And I think the Cursebreaker, while maybe unwilling, is a part of it.” He led me down the hall, and his words echoed in my head, drowning out anything else he had to say as we walked towards the dining hall. Feyre and Rhysand were both noticeably absent this time, and I couldn't help but wonder if maybe Varian was right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 35-37
> 
> The last few days of the Night Court's visit to Summer, the discovery of a betrayal, and a visit from an emissary looking for the Lost Bride of Spring...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is upon us! I’m so sorry this took so long to post. Hopefully it is worth the wait! Thank you everyone who has commented, sent me asks, left kudos/likes, anything! It’s because of you guys that this exists right now. I hope you enjoyed this little foray into the Summer Court as much as I did.
> 
> As always, thank you to my lovely @illyriantremors for being the best cheerleader a writer could ask for. <3<3<3
> 
> Until the next fic (which may end up being sooner than you think... :3), enjoy!

They joined us for dinner in our family dining room that evening. To my pleasure, she had worn the black diamond necklace, which suited her just as well as I thought it would. I swore I heard Varian make a choked noise when she walked in. Cresseida, to my surprise, eyed her appraisingly. “It suits you,” she said almost kindly. “That piece didn't fit here anyway.” Feyre bowed her head in thanks, but didn't take the unintentional bait. Varian watched Amren with curiosity, as though she were a riddle he needed the satisfaction of unraveling. However, she paid him no attention whatsoever as she debated with Cresseida over some ancient text.

Feyre had been chatting amicably with me, her smiles easy and relaxed. Rhysand was keeping close to her, though she didn't seem to be bothered by what was bordering on an invasion of personal space.

“You ate it right there,” I said with disbelief, raising my eyebrows as she told me about her day at dockside.

She shrugged. “They fried it with the other fishermen’s lunches. Didn't charge me extra for it.”

I let out a laugh, impressed. “I can't say I’ve ever done that—sailor or no.”

“You should,” she said earnestly. “It was delicious.”

“Well, maybe I’ll go tomorrow. If you’ll join me.”

She gave me a grin. “I’d like that. Perhaps we could go for a walk in the morning down the causeway when the tide is out. There's a little building along the way—it looks fascinating.”

Cresseida went silent suddenly, but Feyre, seemingly unaware, kept speaking. “I figure since I’ve seen most of the city now, I could see it on my way to visit some of the mainland, too.”

The question seemed innocent enough, but I still glanced at Cresseida. If this wasn't handled delicately—and quickly—we would be in very deep water.

“It's a temple ruin,” I said blandly, the lie coming to my lips easier than I liked. “Just mud and seaweed at this point. We’ve been meaning to repair it for years.” I still remembered the sick feeling I got from handling that evil metal box that now lay in the catacombs beneath the docks of Adriata, under the enchantments that now only I could break. The Book of Breathings. The unintelligible whispers that came from that metal box had snaked into my ears, so much that it made my very blood run cold just to think about it.

“Maybe we’ll take the bridge then,” she suggested, oblivious to my attempts to change the conversation. “I’ve had enough of mud for a while.”

I looked her in the eye. Why did she ask about the temple? Of all the things to bring up…

Another thought crossed my mind. Why  _ did _ they want to come here so badly? Why ask about my trove? There were pieces of information, pieces of a puzzle that were all right there in front of me. All I needed to do was put—

_ She’s harmless.  _ A small voice in my head said. My better judgement.  _ She is kind, and sad, and broken. You saw her with your people—you saw how she treated them. How she treats you. Amarantha did not break that kindness. _

It was true. She had given me no reason to distrust her.

_ Take her to the mainland tomorrow. That'll keep her from asking about the temple. She saved Prythian. She is your friend. _

My worries faded away, until I couldn't even remember what I had been worried about in the first place. I could take Feyre to the mainland for a tour in the morning. 

I smiled at her. “We’ll meet after breakfast. Unless Rhysand wants me for more meetings.” I turned to the bored High Lord and he waved a hand at me lazily.

“By all means, Tarquin, spend the day with my lady.” The possessiveness in those last two words was clear. Feyre braced her arms on the wooden table and gave me an easy smile. There was a flicker of distress in her eyes, but before I could ask her what was the matter, it was gone. “Tell me what there is to see on the mainland,” she said.

~~~

We left the palace early in the morning, just as the sun was coming up over the water. Feyre came out with a smile, but that inexplicable unhappiness in her eyes from the night before had still been there when met her at the door to her rooms. She also seemed to be very tired, and I wondered if we should have postponed it by a day or two. When I offered, she declined, the distress becoming determination, and we set off for the mainland.

It was nice speaking to anyone who was nearby. I loved that they were not afraid to walk up to us and start a conversation, though their warm greetings were nervous—guarded even—when they realized who my companion was. I wasn't surprised—they had survived so much here, and while they were grateful, they also wanted to distance themselves from the memories as much as possible and move forward. It was no fault of Feyre's, and I hoped that she understood that.

But as the day went on, she looked more and more tired. We stopped for a fried fish at the docks, which was indeed as delicious as Feyre had said. By the time the sun was sliding into the horizon, she finally admitted that she was tired and hungry, and so I bought her a baked fish pie as we headed back towards the palace.

Evening fell over the island all too soon, and we gathered in the dining room.

I turned to Feyre. “I know there are other places on the mainland to visit. Or we could always—”

“Unfortunately, we need to return home, by the afternoon at the latest,” Rhysand interrupted smoothly. “I have court matters to attend to, and we have been away long enough.” Feyre sat next to him, not saying a word. I felt a pang of disappointment at his words. Dinner with the Night Court had become somewhat of a normalcy now. I  _ expected _ to see them there, to engage in conversation with someone other than Varian, Cresseida, or my other advisors. Dinner was quiet after that, with no one really sure what to say.

I walked them to their rooms, each step that took us closer to this final night with visitors making me sadder.

I kissed Feyre's cheek, fully aware of Rhysand’s watchful gaze. “I wish it wasn't your last evening. But perhaps I will see about visiting the Night Court soon.”

Rhysand placed his hand at the small of Feyre's back, not saying a word as she bid me good night.

~~~

I walked into my study to find Cresseida sitting at my desk. I stopped in the doorway.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Cresseida?”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” she asked without preamble, holding a folded paper in her hand. I could tell it was Tamlin's letter—the one that Varian had argued with me about a few days before.

“Where did you get that?” I asked harshly.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions, Tarquin,” she snapped. “You would put your entire court all in danger over a girl?”

I bristled at her tone. “I know what I'm doing.”

“Do you though?” She unfolded the letter. “Tarquin,” she read aloud, “I write this letter as an urgent request for your help. Feyre was taken from my lands under duress by the Night Court, and I believe is being held against her will. If you should come into contact with her, or she should pass through your lands, please let her know I am working tirelessly to find her, and if you are able—”

“Cresseida,” I interrupted.

“—please send word and we shall retrieve her in the safest manner possible.” She folded the letter back up. “That doesn't sound like someone who respects her decisions.”

“I confirmed—”

“I don't care what you confirmed! The Spring Court has specifically requested her return if she enters our borders.” She sighed. “I’ve sent a return letter stating she's here. Someone from the Spring Court should be here to collect her before they depart in the afternoon.” I stared incredulously at her, not quite believing what I was hearing. She almost looked sorry. “It's what's best, Tarquin. For  _ everyone  _ involved.”

“Being Princess of Adriata does not give you the right to act like you rule my court, Cresseida.”

“Your judgement has clearly been clouded—”

“He locked her up!” I snapped. “The Night Court rescued her, and—”

“That is not our concern, Tarquin,” she replied simply. “We sometimes have to make hard decisions, ones we may not like or even agree with, because they are what is right. She was entered into a bargain as a mortal that she should have been released from when she died for Prythian. She stayed, was engaged to Tamlin, and stolen from him.” She shook her head. “I do this not out of any animosity for her, or even Rhysand. I do this because I don't want to see my city wrested away from us again because we didn't do as the law demands.”

“The law,” I said hotly, “is what keeps Tamlin from going after her now. Do you really think, after all we’ve seen of them during this visit, that Rhysand would be so stupid to leave a loophole so simple for Tamlin to take her back? That's why Tamlin is trying to get the other High Lords to do his work for him. If Feyre didn't want to be in the Night Court, she wouldn't be.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked quietly. I nodded. 

“I do.” I walked back towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

I stopped and turned back towards her. “To get them out of here and hope we don't end up in the middle of a war between two courts.”

~~~

I rushed down the hallway as the sun began to rise over the horizon. If I could just warn them, maybe they could leave before word reached Tamlin. I thanked the Mother that Cresseida hadn't thought to give the message to anyone who could winnow. I knocked frantically.

No answer.

I knocked again, but still nothing. I couldn't hear anything. I opened the door to Rhysand’s room.

The room was empty.

Well, his things were still there. Packed for their departure, and the bed untouched. As though he never went to sleep last night. I opened the connecting door to Feyre's door. The same thing. 

A sparkle in my peripheral vision made me turn towards the dresser. Lying there neatly on the top was the black diamond necklace I had given Feyre. The one she had been wearing just last night.

“Tarquin!” I turned around and found Varian standing in the doorway, panting, his eyes wild with panic.

“We have a problem.”

~~~

“And so we came here immediately to let you know,” the guard finished. I felt sick to my stomach. The Book of Breathings. Stolen from right under our noses, my guards assaulted, and my court in absolute chaos. Many of the guards were currently in the healer’s wing, though none of their injuries were life threatening. 

I couldn't even begin to imagine how they had managed it. The enchantments were keyed to me—to the Summer Court itself. And to have it stolen by people we had welcomed in as our guests…

Though I knew that it hadn't been confirmed, there was just too much evidence to ignore. 

I felt anger at myself for falling for their act, betrayed that they would do such a thing to us after the hospitality we had shown them… especially by Feyre. The guilt in her eyes now made perfect sense. She had known exactly what they were going to do. I wondered idly if she had been in on this plan since they arrived, or if she had been involved after they got here.

“Tarquin.” I turned to look at Varian, who seemed uncharacteristically nervous. “The water.”

I looked to the bay outside the window to the dining room and found the sea choppy and dangerous—a mirror of my own feelings. I no longer cared how much they had charmed me, or if any of them had been genuine with me. The sea called for vengeance at this betrayal, and as it’s High Lord, I would give it what it asked.

 

“Lord Tarquin?” I looked up at the courtier who stood nervously at the table. “An emissary from the Spring Court is here to see you in the throne room.” I let out a curse. As if my morning couldn't possibly get any worse. I turned to Varian, who nodded.

“Send him in here,” he told the man. With a bow, the man left. Varian turned to me.

“Did Cresseida…?” His voice trailed off. I nodded, and he cursed under his breath as the door creaked open. The red haired man in fine clothes and a clearly well used sword that stood in the doorway before me was one I hadn't seen in a few months. His gaze, mismatched golden and russet, shifted between Varian and I before settling on me.

“Lucien,” I greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I knew exactly why he was here, but I wanted to hear it from him.

He walked up to the other end of the table and gave me a small bow. “Lord Tarquin, we received word from your court that the Night Court was here, along with our missing Lady Feyre. We hoped to be able to intercept them before they got away from us again.” The hope in his eyes made me hate to tell him.

“Yes, Cresseida unfortunately sent word without informing me. I am afraid that you have just missed them. They left in the middle of the night.”

Lucien's shoulders sagged, his expression weary and his eyes almost haunted. I wondered how long he had been searching for her, and what had happened since she had left the Spring Court.

“Should you come into contact with her again—”

“Lucien,” I said gravely. “If I come into contact with Lady Feyre again, she will be answering for crimes against the Summer Court.” He looked stunned.

_ “Crimes?” _ he asked incredulously. “What did she do?”

“That is Summer Court business, of no importance to the Spring Court,” I said flatly. I did not need another Court knowing that we had lost the Fae half of the Book of Breathings.

“Whatever happened, I can assure you that she was not a willing participant,” Lucien insisted. “She was kidnapped from the Spring Court by—”

“Yes, I heard about that.” An idea crossed my mind. “Tell me, Lucien,” I asked, “are the rumors true that Tamlin locked Lady Feyre up in the Spring Court?”

His posture stiffened. “No.” The clear lie wasn't even dressed up with an explanation. Likely less story to keep track of as he went to each court. “We received this letter not long ago from the Night Court,” Lucien said, changing the subject abruptly. He pulled a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his waistcoat and held it out to me. I looked to the Varian, who walked over to Lucien and took the paper from his hand.

_ I left of my own free will. _

_ I am cared for and safe. I am grateful for all that you did for me, all that you gave. _

_ Please don’t come looking for me. I’m not coming back. _

“I mean, who would believe that she actually wrote this?” Lucien said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the realm. “She is illiterate.”

If that were the case, then Feyre's panic during the Second Trial suddenly made sense. I had never seen Feyre's handwriting, but I knew without a doubt this wasn't Rhysand's. Not that the handwriting was bad, but his penmanship was far more polished than this. Feyre had said that Tamlin respected her decisions, but I wondered if that was truly the case.

“Even if that is true, it does not change the fact that she has committed a crime.”

“But you know she would never do anything like that if she were herself,” Lucien argued, having not noticed that I had tuned him out. I felt pity for him. I wondered if he, or even his High Lord, knew Feyre completely. I wondered again if I had.

“I do not know that Lucien,” I said harshly. “Who can say who Lady Feyre truly is? We have only Under the Mountain and our own interactions to draw from, which clearly were different.” Lucien looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

“I can promise her a chance to explain, and nothing more,” I continued as I rose from my chair. “Princess Cresseida will see to it that you and your men have a place to stay for the night so that you may be on your way home tomorrow.” Lucien looked surprised at my blunt dismissal, but bowed his head.

“Thank you, for your generosity,” he said, though I could tell from his expression that this had not gone at all how he had envisioned. 

“If there is nothing else, I must take my leave. I have business to attend to.” Without waiting for Lucien to agree, I walked past him, Varian close on my heels.

“Tarquin, that—”

“We need to go to the vaults,” I interrupted. Varian’s eyes widened in understanding. 

~~~

“Tarquin, are you sure—”

“I don't blame you, Varian. You and Cresseida tried to warn me. The consequences of this are mine to bear.” We stood in the middle of the vault I had first taken Feyre to only days before. It was amazing how quickly things changed. I had placed the necklace back on a shelf, but I had hidden it behind the gaudy ruby and gold one. I didn't even want to look at it. I opened the chest in front of me, revealing a small fortune in deep red rubies that had an almost sinister feel to them. Blood rubies. I let out a sigh and took two rubies in my hands, and placed them in the velvet of a box with a mother of pearl dagger inlaid on the top. With a heavy heart, I took a third and placed it next to the others. “Have a courier deliver this to the Night Court immediately.”

And closed the box with a snap.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! All comments and suggestions are welcome, & if you have a POV/scene you would really like to see, please let me know! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, I have a writing Tumblr! If anyone is interested in talking & discussing ACOTAR, ACOMAF, or giving suggestions/asking questions, I can be found at _<http://kitashiwrites.tumblr.com>_.
> 
> Hope to see you there!


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